


His Majesty and the Elf

by pusdowriting



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, colonial AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21871081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pusdowriting/pseuds/pusdowriting
Summary: This is a colonial AU which takes place in a world where the war between humans and elves takes place with disastrous ramifications for Xadia. The country is now ruled as a colony of the Kingdom of Katolis and Evenere.Rayla is born much later in this world than in the show and so she meets a much older Callum. This is loosely based off of the story of Victoria and Abdul and is a semi-romance with a hint political intrigue and family drama.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Runaan/Tinker | Necklace Elf (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was setting in the distance, instilling the meadow with a gleeful faint light. The twilight was nearly upon Rayla, yet she couldn’t quite convince herself to leave. It had been so very long since she had been given the free time to simply rest in the long grass of the meadows, like she used to as a child. Back when she had few cares and knew blissfully little about the world around her. Back when she still had her parents. Back before the war. Sometimes when she lays down her mind could take her back to those times and the worries of life would wash away. Her peace was disturbed by feet crushing in the leaf litter a small distance away. The person making his way toward her was most likely one of her step-fathers. She didn’t bother checking which one, she would find out soon. The feet stopped walking when they were a few inches from her and began waiting patiently for Rayla to acknowledge them. For nearly two seconds as the feet stilled she could hear nothing but the wind rustling in the grass and the faintest hoots of far away owls. She loved the peace of the meadow and dreaded its inevitable end.

‘Rayla we really should go.’ It was Runaan’s voice. She figured it might be, he was the one that usually went to find her when she was making a nuisance of herself. She tilted her head backwards to make eye contact with him. She gave him a pleading look, more fitting for the five year old she longed for than the nineteen year old she was. Runaan gave her a laugh then offered his hand to help her up.

‘Come on, it’s nearly curfew. There’s a full moon tonight, you know they don’t trust us under those.’ She knew. It had been that way all her life. Except when she was very small, but she only had vague memories of that. She noticed his face went bitter when he said it, as it always did when the curfew came round. It was a monthly occurrence for obvious reasons and though it had always annoyed Rayla it really got to Runaan. He had always been bitter about losing the war. More bitter still about the occupation. Everything that reminded him of their vassalage to the humans made him visibly angry. She understood why though she never quite shared Runaan’s total disdain. Rayla had grown up with it so she assumed that helped. She didn’t know the difference. To her it was normal. 

She resolved to take Runaan’s hand and head back home. He lifted her from the grass and began hitting off the stubborn blades of grass that clung to her skin and clothes. The action was slightly uncomfortable and a little too harsh for Rayla’s liking so she attempted to push him away, with little success. She couldn’t quite get through her protest without giggling which in turn made him giggle. Cheering up the man slightly. 

‘You can’t go back looking like that. What will the guards say?’ he gave himself a laugh. A dark one but a genuine one. Ethari always said that humour was a cure for almost any situation. He then gave her less than gentle slap on her back that was the order to move. She complied heading towards home.

When they arrived a short while later, the village was already deep in preparation for the curfew. The human soldiers in the streets had been doubled from their usual number, as per usual, and the last of the townsfolk checked their names off the registers before being locked inside one building or another. A soldier noticed them making their way in and eyed them suspiciously. 

‘Where have you two been. You’re nearly late!’ the soldier yelled. He wore a fairly standard uniform so Rayla assumed he was no one of any particular importance. Rayla had learnt at a young age not to annoy the guards but she also thought this one looked more annoyed than angry. With that in mind, she decided to take charge of the situation. Runaan had a habit of getting into trouble with the soldiers so she thought it best not to encourage him. He had been arrested on four separate occasions and was now on very thin ice with the local authorities. 

‘Sorry, we just lost track of time. We live in the house no. 27, I’m Rayla and this is Runaan.’ The soldier rolled his eyes and mumbled to himself. From what Rayla heard it sounded like he was repeating what she just said to him. Except in the childish mockery of a slightly higher pitch.

‘Any reason your late?’ the soldier asked as he eyed the two elves up. Venom seeping in his voice. 

‘We are not late yet...’ Rayla offered but was interrupted by Runann whose tone was far less diplomatic. 

‘We will be if you don’t let us go home.’ There he went, antagonising the soldiers again. Luck seemed to be on their side this night because the soldier seemed to grow tired and a little bored of the two elves in front of him. That or he was just eager to end his shift. Rayla couldn’t say. 

‘Whatever just get inside, I’ll sign you off. Don’t be late again.’ With that Rayla excused the two of them and lead Runaan to their home. It was a home which Runaan and Ethari had owned and lived in well before the war. Though before the war it was not called house no. 27. After the war the humans insisted on numbering the houses and keeping records of who lived where. That was how they kept track of who the deviants were, who was to pay taxes and who should be where at curfew. Runaan and Ethari used to tell her stories of how it was like before the war. When the Silvergrove was a small village hidden by a magical illusion. Everyone simply knew where everyone else lived back then. There was no need for numbers. 

Rayla knew that was how many would have preferred the town staying. Nowadays all sorts of people lived here. Lots of humans for a start. The soldiers and their families, the mandarins who looked after everything from the government building down the road and some ordinary humans who moved in more recently to make a living selling vegetables, opening shops and other mundane things. There were also a lot more elves here from all sorts of backgrounds. Sunfire Elves mostly who had been moved here by the Imperial Government to build a new railroad track on the edge of town. Their affinity to fire making it easy to lay and shape the various metals needed in track work. She didn’t know when they would finish but she was rather excited by the prospect of their very own railway station. She kept that to herself though. She knew Runaan didn’t approve. 

As Rayla and Runaan ascended the winding stairs that led to their home, which had been carved deep into the side of a large tree, she began to notice more soldiers, this time guarding the entrance of their home. That was knew. Before Rayla could properly process this intrusion Runaan had already begun interrogating them. 

‘What are you doing in my home! This is not part of procedure!’ Runaan’s comments were slightly too loud and slightly too aggressive for the soldiers liking. The two by the door gave each other a quick nervous look before stepping out of the way and gesturing for them to enter.

‘I think it's best you see for yourself.’ was the reply of the soldier on the left. Rayla wasn’t expecting that and her mind started to race with possibilities. Had something happened to Ethari? Was their house robbed? Was someone important visiting? Had she broken some law she didn’t know about? Before her mind could go on Runaan had begun storming his way inside. Rayla quickly ran after him. She didn’t want to be alone outside with the humans. 

Inside were six more armed men guarding a middle-aged human male sitting in a chair opposite Ethari. It seemed they were just chatting though Ethari was clearly nervous. The man was wearing an elegantly designed armoured suit, decorated with golden symbols and various royal honours of the Kingdom of Katolis. He was a blond, with blue eyes and a bulky build but most importantly he showed all the signs of being someone very important. It was at that moment that Ethari noticed her and Runaan and began introductions. 

‘You must meet my family. This is my husband Runaan and my step-daughter Rayla.’ The man got up and eyed them with a slightly too warm smile that Rayla didn’t really trust. ‘Family, this is Lord Soren of Katolis, “Head of the Royal Order of the Crown Guard” and he has some special news for us.’ With pleasantries exchanged and a firm handshake from Soren that left Rayla’s hand very sore, the Lord began filling in the blanks.

‘Right so...last month the Crown commissioned a cut of the Sunfire Diamonds for fitting in a royal ornament or...ah...something...and Ethari here won the contract!’ He then waved his arms in the direction of the elf as if he were the man of the hour, wiggling his fingers for dramatic effect. This left Rayla rather confused, she could tell she was not the only one. Runaan got the first question in, though he ignored Lord Soren and spoke directly to Ethari.

‘You didn’t say anything about a new contract.’ Before Ethari could open his mouth the excited Lord explained, or more so exclaimed.

`Oh, that’s because it was a top secret job. You know how the royal household is about keeping its secrets.’ He proceeds to chuckle to himself like it was some brilliant inside joke. Noticing no one else was laughing he quickly moved to regain his composure, but not before giving off a nervous blush. Rayla wasn’t sure what she expected from Katolian aristocracy but it wasn’t this. Soren seemed a bit goofy and it was really throwing her off. 

‘Secrecy was part of the job description. The government didn’t want anyone to know where the diamonds where.’ Ethari elaborated.

‘Now all we need is someone to present this gift on behalf of the people of Xadia to the emperor! It really is quite an honour. I mean...I barely see him anymore and I’m head of his crown guard!’ Soren again broke into laughter but this time his laughter died more quickly. He then coughed a fake cough before continuing. ‘Anyway… we thought that the person who should give the gift to the emperor should be someone from in this household. Specifically, we thought it should be you Rala!’ He then gestured in Rayla’s direction heroically. 

‘I believe it’s Rayla sir’ interrupted one of the guards. 

‘That’s what I said, Rayla’ the Lord insisted. Panic started to set in at that moment as Rayla began contemplating the reality of the events unveiling before her. 

‘Me, see the emperor...why me!?’ she exclaimed. Rayla had always considered the emperor a faraway thing. There were portraits of him here and there. Like in the library or classrooms in her old school. There were flags with his symbols on them flying over houses, government buildings and such so she knew vaguely what he looked like. There was a holiday that they were all given to enjoy his birthday but other than that she never really considered him a real person. He was an idea, a symbol. A little Moonshadow Elf girl wasn’t important enough to ever have to worry about these things. The Silvergrove was too small a settlement and too unimportant to be of any significance for a Royal visit. Why her? Surely it was a mistake. 

‘Well Ethari has another contract we need him to complete and Runaan has a...colourful record which means he technically can’t be with five hundred miles of his Majesty...so that leaves you’ Soren concludes, matter of factly. 

Gobsmacked, she watched Ethari accept on her behalf while she stood, wide-eyed and in shock. Her mind racing with possibilities.


	2. Chapter 2

The humans, Lord Soren and his escort of soldiers had long left their home and yet Rayla, Ethari and Runnaan all stood wide awake. Their minds cast to the events of the hours previous. The full moon stood high in the air that night. Though they couldn’t see it from inside they could feel it there. All Moonshadow Elves had an intrinsic connection. Now that intrinsic connection was manifesting itself as an itch. A need to embrace the moon and become an illusion. To become invisible and scratch the itch. The constant denial of being locked inside during any and all full moons left a lot of pent up magic in the systems of the Moonshadow Elves. On the best of days it made them irritable. Today it was a straw threatening to break the camel’s back. That camel being Rayla’s sanity and the sanity of the household. She felt herself maddening from the constant replayings of the day’s earlier events in her mind. 

She began to tap. In order to distract herself from her thoughts. From the itch. Her fingers beating on a wooden table rhythmically. 

“One, Two, Three, Four. One, Two, Three, Four.”

As her mind wandered she began to worry about mannerisms for what felt like the first time in her life. She had never really cared to learn them. Not properly anyway. Rayla wasn’t a slob by any stretch of the imagination. She kept her spaces tidy, said her pleases and thank yous more often than not and knew how to behave in public places. Yet she certainly wasn’t up to the standards of royalty. Suddenly Rayla felt as if she would be incapable of saving herself from embarrassment. Didn’t they have complex little domestic rituals you had to partake in? A million different spoons, forks and knives that had individual purposes that no respectable person would be caught dead using incorrectly? What about how you address royalty? Was it ‘your highness’ or ‘your majesty?’ Was there a difference and did it matter? 

It occurred to Rayla that the humans had sayings about this sort of thing. ‘You must learn proper manners Rayla’ they would tell her in school, ‘what if you are called one day to have dinner with the King?’ By some absurd twist of fate, she actually was being called to dinner with the King. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was meant to be a figurative “what if”. A hyperbole. It was just something the humans said every now and again when they were annoyed with you. They were weird like that. 

Then again she could be going about this all wrong. Soren didn’t say much about what she was supposed to do. For all she knew, she was to present the diamonds, bow and then leave. Go back home so that all would be forgotten. That would be more fitting for an elf. The humans weren’t known for their warm feelings about her kind. This thought opened up a new source of anxiety for the elf. What if they were rude to her? What if they looked at her with scorn and whispered about her in snide remarks? What if she was being brought only to be laughed at by the court? The endless “what ifs” were driving Rayla crazy. 

No longer content with tapping the table she got up and started to pace. She moved back and forth from the far wall to her original position. The simple muscle exercise helping Rayla to clear her head. This caught the attention of her step-fathers who now eyed her. Obviously worried that she wasn’t taking any of this well.

‘Ethari, did you know they wanted someone to present the diamonds to the human king?’ Runaan practically spat out the phrase “human king” as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. More than that though the question sounded a little too much like an accusation. 

‘No’ there was a pause before Ethari continued ‘It was a royal commission. A lot of money and a no questions asked arrangement. Besides it was a chance to work with the Sunfire Diamonds. I couldn’t turn it down.’ Ethari was already being defensive, a bad sign. Rayla was reminded of a saying in the household. Not to argue during the full moon. You might say something you didn’t mean too. The situation was already escalating. 

‘You know why they're doing this right? As if they hadn’t humiliated us enough by locking us in our own homes during a sacred time. By making us sing their songs, live under their symbols and next to their buildings. Now they want to take the symbols of Elven pride, some of the most beautiful diamonds in Xadia and fashion them into a gift for “His Majesty”. And on top of that have a poor little elven girl submit herself before him and give the gems as if they were a gift and not stolen property!’ Runaan fumed. ‘And worst of all it is our daughter who will be humiliated before the humans in place of...in...in...instead of...as...as a symbol for Xadia! A symbol of Xadia’s weakness and...and vassalage!’ His words began to become less coherent as he went on. His anger palpable and beginning to froth at the mouth. He stormed into the opposite direction of the room in a fury, his fists so heavily clenched that Rayla could make out the shape of his veins all the way up his arms and to his shoulders. 

‘I’m sure it won’t be all bad. Besides Rayla has always wanted to see the world outside the Silvergrove. Ever since she was little. Now she can. Rayla gets a free vacation to Katolis, stays at the palace for a week then comes back home after one small ceremony. She might even enjoy it.’ Seemingly remembering that Rayla was actually there he turned to her. ‘You might actually enjoy it. If you give it a chance.’ Ethari was always a bit of an optimist. It was one of his best traits. He could see the good in anything. Rayla was about to answer him but her hesitation allowed Runaan to answer instead.

‘How can you be ok with this? The humans won’t treat her as some guest of honour. She will be a glorified servant. Made to do the bidding of our lords and masters. She belongs here, with us. Among her own people.’ Ethari looked down unable to meet his husband’s eyes. 

‘It’s too late to back out now. Besides, it's not like I will be gone forever. At most a few months.’ Rayla had made the call. She didn’t enjoy watching her fathers fight and her determination to end the argument seemed to give her a new resolve. Besides hearing her internal argument manifesting itself in her adopted parents was giving her a fright. As quiet descended over the home once more Rayla allowed herself to indulge in Ethari’s optimistic view of the situation. He was certainly right about her wanting to see the world outside the Silvergrove. That was why she was so excited about the train station. Why she snuck into the forests and meadows as often as she could. Even as doubts began to enter her mind something else was growing. Excitement. A teetering, nuanced and slightly numb excitement but excitement nonetheless. 

Very few people ever got the opportunity to meet the “Emperor of Xaida, King of Katolis and Evenere.” Though people like Runaan would want nothing more than to slit his throat, for Rayla it was different. She doesn't remember the war. For her, Callum had always been the emperor. Even though she was never into royalty and generally disliked the rules of the humans, there was something mystical about the royal family. Callum had been omnipresent throughout her life. His portrait was in every government building, including all her classrooms from school. His name and title were plastered on everything from the post office to brands of cheese and she had been forced to sing “Glory to the Sovereign” every now and again. Now she was to see the man she had heard so much about and yet never expected to meet. That had simultaneously always been there and not. The man who garnered so much respect, hatred and awe from everyone and anyone just by the mention of his name. 

‘Rayla’s a strong girl. She’ll be fine.’ Ethari assured Runaan. Outnumbered and still bitter, Runaan huffed and made his way out of the room. Presumably towards his bedroom for the night. Rayla rather amusingly considered the possibility of Ethari sleeping on the lounge tonight. He did that sometimes when he and Runaan had arguments.

As the dust settled Rayla considered going to bed herself. With the full moon out she won’t be able to sleep but she could use the rest. As well as the time to brood. As she made her way to leave Ethari reassured her once more.

‘You’ll be fine.’ He said. 

***

‘You’ll be fine.’ Ethari’s words repeated themselves in her mind as she prepared to leave her childhood home and the only place she ever knew, behind. Before her stood an adventure, something new to see. She was reminded of the stories Runaan used to tell her about her parents. How they were elite dragon guard who fought bravely in the war to protect the Dragon King and Queen. They went all over Xadia as emissaries of Avizandum and Zubeia. From the great golden city of the Sunfire Elves to the lonely mountain of the Storm Spire. Now it was her turn to see the world. ‘You’ll be fine.’ She repeated the words as a mantra in her mind every time the nerves threatened to overpower her excitement. A constant internal war raging between her mind and the butterflies in her stomach. 

With her was a luggage bag which Ethari had packed on her behalf. Within its cramped spaces were a few changes of clothes and some trinkets of sentimental value. Along with a few packed lunches for her to enjoy should she get peckish. With one final wave goodbye to her adopted parents, she was off. Runaan’s attitude had softened overnight and he said his goodbyes warmly. She could tell they were not totally sincere but she couldn’t really ask more of him. Rayla was just happy that Runaan was as uncomfortable with leaving on a sour note as she was. She supposes she got that from him. Ethari was always a little more lassefair about those sorts of things. Despite the improvement in attitude, Rayla had insisted on giving her goodbyes at the doorway and making the trek to the government building alone. She didn’t know how long she would be held there and didn’t want to cause a scene in case they whisked her off immediately or else decided to make her wait a little too long.

The government building stood some way down the road, just outside the confines of the pre-war village. She began approaching it after a reasonably short twenty-minute walk and found herself just outside its perimeter gardens soon thereafter. The architect who designed the building had attempted to replicate the artistic style of the old eleven buildings that made up the pre-war Silvergrove. What really made it stick out like a sore thumb was the size. It was a huge structure standing three times taller than any other surface building and just shorter than the canopy of the highest trees, while its width made it more suited to house a street full of homes rather than a single building. In truth, the government building was more of a palace, despite the name. Its gigantic structure was supported by massive and intricately carved columns placed in two rows stretching around the perimeter of the building. The outer and larger row was done in the composite order with and interior row of thinner columns done in the more spartan Tuscan order—Rayla had been co-opted into an architectural class in high school by an over-enthusiastic teacher who used to take them on field trips to the building whenever they had the chance, though the only thing she really got out of it was the difference between orders of pillars. In the centre of the complex, flanked by two massive rectangular wings, each housing a colonial department, was a great dome with various crescent-shaped entries that let in the sun’s natural light. 

As she passed into the grounds of the building, through the elaborate “North-West Gate” entrance with its golden renditions of unicorns and dragons, the magnificent gardens that decorated the first 250 meters or so between the entrance and the building itself came into view. It was nearly spring and the gardens were in bloom, washing the grounds in all matter of colours. Deep reds, bright yellows and royal purples straddled the cobblestone pathways Rayla was walking. She was almost tempted to take a detour through the hedge mazes that stood tantalisingly close, only one right turn from her present direction. Allowing her more practical side to take control however, she avoided the temptation in favour of a speedy arrival. She passed at least four statues of Emperor Callum on her garden route. Though she had seen them before, this time she took some time and extra consideration to study the stern, sharp features of his slightly wrinkled face. He looked powerful, elegant, handsome and authoritative. Though how much of this translated into the real man’s figure she couldn’t have guessed. It was safe to assume the marble accounted for some of those traits. 

As she approached the front steps of the building and ascended the sandstone she found herself entering the domed foyer. Its floor war a polished stained marble in which she could see her own reflection. To each side of her were desks where various officials were talking to the various people who walked in and out of the building at any one time. Each of them with one concern of another. What really grabbed her attention at that moment were the walls which were decorated with huge portraits of the various governors which had been assigned to the Silvergrove over the years. Including the current governor, Lord Aling and his five predecessors. The first of which, Lady Claudia—or “the witch” as she was known colloquially—had been positioned on the far wall and slightly above the others so that her painted figure could stare down anyone walking through the front entrance. Claudia had always given Rayla the creeps. Right from when she was a small girl. Maybe it was her chauvinistic use of dark magic. How her dark, gothic figure exudes the very essence of the unholy human practice. From her pitch-black clothes to the spell tome that was always depicted in her left hand. Maybe it was the fact that she was known to have eviscerated one of the great dragons, Sol Regem, and use his life force to bring an entire army to its knees. A shiver begin to develop in Rayla’s loins as the hair on the back of her neck began to stand on edge. 

‘You enjoying the painting?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I failed to get this through before Christmas and I apologies.
> 
> Merry Christmas and a happy new year to everyone.


	3. Chapter 3

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a king must be in possession of all the greatest fortunes of his kingdom. It is a truth so well fixed into the minds of his subjects that the very illusion of monarchy depends on it. The monarch is the embodiment of the nation, the empire personified into a single person. A single object to worship, celebrate and to admire. That is why he must be dressed in the finest silks. Why he must wear the finest jewellery, with astute awareness of the geographical significance of each jewel so as to wear the treasures of the empire like a map on his person. It is why he must live, or at least be seen to live, in the largest and most elaborate palaces. The monarch is a symbol. The monarch is a mannequin. When the vastness and glory of empire are too much for mortal minds to conceive they need only look at their beloved king. His wealth is the pride of the nation, for only a great people and a powerful state could bestow these unbelievable gifts onto their king. The king is the people’s mannequin, a show of their power and prestige. 

One fact allowed Callum to retain his humbleness in spite of the unbelievable devotion and wealth he was subjected to everyday. His memory. He knew better than anyone that the monarchy was a delicate illusion. He had no royal blood. He had watched the king before him and his step-brother, the one who should have succeeded him, assassinated when he was still a young boy. Brutally murdered like any other person. They bled like any person of less importance. In other words, entirely ordinary in the end. That night the royal line was gone and the court made a hasty decision to declare him the new king and to make his bloodline the one of royal succession. It was not by divine providence nor centuries of tradition that the crown fell on his head, it was simply a crude, rushed political decision. Made as a compromise to keep the people from panicking and prevent Lord Viren from taking the throne for himself in the chaos. 

Kings before him had a more political purpose than just the people’s mannequin. His step-father’s word was law. He ran the kingdom and made large political decisions that affected the lives of thousands upon thousands of people. It was ironic then that he lived relatively humbly in the central castle of Katolis with few riches and a relatively modest, thin gold crown. Callum never made any such decisions and never would. From day one he was the puppet of the court as Viren and Opeli struggled between themselves to decide the future of the country. His only job was to say what they wanted him to say to the public. To give the impression that the government had a unified voice. Yet despite his reduced role, his status seemed grander than that of his step-father. His crown was massive and laden with diamonds, so heavy with decoration that it was hard to wear even when standing still. He was not just the king of the medieval state of Katolis but the emperor of a dominion which spanned from the most eastern corners of the once mysterious continent of Xadia to the western most edge of Evenere. His step-father was not worshiped as a living god. Callum was and he didn’t deserve it. 

He had once said all this to Viren who had simply said ‘You may not deserve it but the people deserve to have a king and one they can be proud of. For better or for worse, you are the person the people see in their minds when they sing patriotic songs, when they celebrate our national holidays and when they think about the prosperity we achieved in your reign. It is therefore your duty to look the part.’ He took that to heart. Still devastated by the loss of his only remaining family they began to call him the “Orphan King”. The Orphan King had only one purpose, to be seen. So he resigned himself to a life of measured silence and public appearances. Being what the people and the court wanted. Hiding as best he could the clouds of sadness which followed and haunted him.

————————

‘You enjoying the painting?’

Rayla turned on the balls of her feet to find that Soren had manoeuvred himself into her blindspot. The lord was dressed in the exact same outfit he wore previously, maintaining his militaristic look. For a while Rayla merely stared at him as she recomposed herself. Soren watched her expectantly, waiting for an answer that she supposes she will have to give. Though she thought it best not to wear her heart on her sleeve and keep things as simple and uncontroversial as possible. 

‘It's a little creepy. Those paintings used to frighten me when I was small.’ Soren’s eyebrow went up at that, as he moved to observe the painting as if anew. He then turned to her and gave a warm smile. A good omen, she thought.

‘She’s my sister, and we may well be meeting her on our way to Katolis.’ Rayla felt her stomach drop but attempted to keep a stony expression to avoid offending the lord. She felt a shiver go down her spine as gooseflesh developed across her skin. She imagined the possibility of seeing “The Witch” in person. 

‘She can be a little, what’s the word you used?’ there was a long pause but from the thoughtful expression on Soren’s face Rayla assumed that he wasn’t sharing her moment of panic and dread. With any luck he hadn’t noticed. ‘Creepy! She is a bit of a goofball actually. When you get to know her.’ Soren chuckled to himself before slapping her on the back. Her adrenaline pumped body acting to amplify the sensation horribly and causing her heart to skip a beat. Soren remained oblivious however, for which Rayla was thankful. With little warning he then made for foyer’s stables motioning her to follow. Outside she found a lavish cart waiting for them attached to a harras of seven large muscular horses. The wagon driver deplatformed in order to greet Rayla and Soren—though mostly Soren Rayla would have waged—which he did by taking off his hat and bowing shallowly before opening the cart's door. 

‘In you come my Lord, Lady. I’m to take you to the Royal Railroad Company’s “Prince Ezran Station”. If I’m correct?’ The driver inquired. Soren confirmed that to be the case and off they went. The trip was slow, bumpy and awkward though luckily for her Soren was the kind of person who didn’t notice such things. He sat, played with his hands, hummed and stared at the Xadian scenery as it went by. Finding ways to entertain himself, making small comments every now and then which Rayla reflected with polite but small answers so as not to be dragged into conversation. They were on the road for three hours before the driver stopped the cart with a crack of his wip and a call to prepare for disembark. Rayla felt relief wash over her, her muscles had begun to set in place over the long journey causing them to ache painfully. She definitely needed to stretch a little and walk. The door was opened by the driver who motioned for Soren to walk out. Dying to get out as she was she knew better than to interrupt procedure. There was a right way of doing things and that right way required Lords go first. Once Rayla observed Soren’s feet touch the ground she began to move, taking her bag from the small compartment under her seat and moving to join behind Soren. As she exited she saw the train. 

A great metal monstrosity with a chimney pumping black fumes into the air. The platform was decorated with steel columns leading to a darkened wooden ceiling that protected passengers from sun and rain. The steel columns were decorated with vines, carved into their surfaces and painted a deep green-brown as if to imitate nature. The train itself was the most marvelous thing she ever saw. Dwarfing any vehicle she had ever seen before and sitting on tracks that seemed to go endlessly westwards, beyond the horizon. Rayla could barely contain her childish excitement for the machine, in fact she was so enthusiastic that she could almost ignore the smell coming off it from the burning coals. The central government has placed a mandate notice at the Silvergrove Government House three years back stating, promising, that one day in the near future her town would be connected to this track. Since that day Rayla has saved a little money every month, intent on buying a ticket right to the end on the track in Del Bar and back again. She had been obsessed with the idea of the train since then. Seeing the world from its carts and moving faster than any horse could ride had been her go to fantasy whenever she became bored or sad with day to day life. Now it was in front of her, and it was better than she could ever have imagined. 

Soren moved ahead of her towards the second cart. Rayla followed a respectful distance behind him until she came to the threshold between the platform and the train car. Taking a moment to savour her experience she lifted one foot from the ground and placed it onto the car’s floor. As she entered the train she found it was divided into a small corridor and a series of rooms on one side. Each room had a door, and a window covered with a curtain. She located a metal door at the very end of the cart labeled “Lavatory” and another adjacent to the entrance to the train that said “Dining Cart”. 

With all too much excitement she was led by a servant to her room. The servant was a young Sunfire Elf boy who wore a black suit and tie which Rayla assumed was the uniform. Her room was small, a tiny bed on one side and a long draw and cabinet on the other leaving less than two feet in the middle to stand on. She threw herself onto the bed and stuffed her bag in a corner. As if to make up for the limited accommodation, her room had a window. A window she hastened to expose from it’s curtained hiding place. Now she only had to wait for the train to move, and with a deafening roar of an engine in the distance it started. Rayla watched the scene before her hours as dense woodlands turned into open grassy plains and grasslands to the shifting sands of the midnight desert. A bit of food was delivered to her at various points along the journey but she would mostly be confined to her cabin for the trip. At one point, as the train moved into a tunnel carved into the mountain ranges that separated Xadia from the human lands a note came to her along with a very fancy dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened to me?
> 
> Well all sorts of things. University, Covid-19, family drama. I forgot all about this until I rediscovered it along with a few other things I wrote mostly to practice my skills in creative writing. Anyway chapter three is here and only a three quarters of a year late! To be honest I was also unsatisfied with this story. I felt like I hadn't written Rayla with enough agency as a character. She seemed very passive and not very, well Rayla. I had an alternative beginning that I may play around with in future but for now I've just continued the old version of the story with the chapter three I wrote some months ago.


End file.
